The Man from Jericho Part 28

"My brother--Doctor Glenning! Lost for over half a lifetime and home again by the grace o' G.o.d in time to see a Dudley hoss walk away from the pick o' Marston's stables! Sit down, all o' you! Bless me, such a day! Daughter and brother on the same train, and neither knew each other till they met here on this portico! Arthur, my boy, this is better than a julep with the thuhmometuh at ninety-nine in the shade--'pon my soul!

And all this mess about you bein' dead and the money comin' in the nick o' time to keep us out o' the po'-house--"

"Father!"

"Sit down, all o' you! I'm a bit excited, I fear! Peter! _Peter!_"

"You'll have to call louder than that, Major. Peter's in a stall at the race track stables this minute, mothering The Prince."

While the Major was speaking John had been standing by Julia's side, looking at the returned wanderer. He saw a man much like Major Dudley in height and build, with long white hair and a silvery beard which swept his chest. His face was tanned, his eyes keen, and his voice pleasant, though a trifle loud.

"So he is, doctor--and tomorrow's the day! There's so much to tell and so much to listen to. Arthur, we'll spend the remainder of our days talking and listening. But the juleps! Here, Julia, you're even better than Peter at this decoction. Make us three, child. I know your uncle's tired. Take a chair, doctor--"

But Glenning was already in the hall following swiftly in the train of the young lady commissioned to mix the drinks. He overtook her at the door between the library and dining-room. She heard him in pursuit, and turned there to smile at him.

"Oh, I'm _so_ glad you've come!" he exclaimed, taking her two hands and looking down into her eyes. "You have been away ages!"

"So long?" she laughed archly; "did you miss me?"

She wrested herself free and ran to the old side-board, where the decanters and sugar sat. He was by her side on the instant.

"Can it not be tonight?" he pleaded. "Will--your uncle's coming interfere?"

She turned a sober face towards him.

"It would not be right for me to absent myself from him the first evening after his arrival. You understand, don't you?"

"Certainly I do. I knew it was useless and silly for me to ask--but I want so much to have you to myself for one hour!"

"You shall--tomorrow night! What can it mean, Doctor Glenning?--that story of his death, and the money?"

"Somebody has made a mistake," he answered, and his face was very solemn.

"Evidently they have, but that doesn't cast any light on the mystery."

"It will be cleared up in time--let me carry that tray for you. It's silver, and heavy as lead."

She consented, and they repaired to the porch, where the juleps were quaffed eagerly. Then John made his excuses, feeling somewhat out of place in the flush of this reunion, but first securing Julia's promise to accompany him to the races the following afternoon.

That day was one which the people of Macon and the country round about never forgot. A light rain fell in the forenoon, sufficient to do away with the dust without making mud. In consequence the track was perfect, the atmosphere tempered, and in the afternoon not a cloud showed in the sky. The Dudleys went early and found seats just in front of the wire, which was the most desirable location. The news of Arthur Dudley's return had spread quickly, and people thronged about the two old men, for though he had always lived an isolated existence, Major Dudley enjoyed the respect and esteem of every one. The big race in which The Prince was expected to win his laurels was the last on the program, so there was plenty of time for receiving friends, and listening to the opinions of well-wishers. These were legion, for Marston had not a backer in all that vast throng. He was a pariah, by choice. He did not like people, and he did not want them to like him. He was on hand this afternoon. John saw his thick-set figure often in the crowd at the betting shed during the first races. He bet on his own horses, some of which were in every race, and he nearly always won, for his thoroughbreds belonged to a strain which was hard to beat.

A little after four the bell in the judges' stand clanged for the last race. John turned to Julia, who sat by his side.

"That summons The Prince!" he remarked, smiling.

He had never seen her more beautiful. Her cheeks were flushed from excitement, and her eyes were starry. She sighed, and looked at him anxiously.

"Be of good courage!" he said. "They cannot beat him!"

The horses were beginning to appear, and a brave showing they made; a sight to make any Kentuckian's heart swell with enthusiasm. Devil Marston's two racers came up first, and Glenning saw that they were built in becoming manner. Then as the bay colt walked proudly down the stretch with Uncle Peter on his back, a thunderous wave of acclaim rent the air. John turned once more to Julia, and he saw that her eyes were moist. The weighing of the jockeys and the drawing for place went forward speedily. There were five entries, and Peter came in the middle, the third from the pole. Then the jockeys were in the saddle again, and had started up the stretch to score. Again the eyes of the man went to the girl beside him. Her gloved hands were over her face, and he could see that she was making a mighty effort for control. He heard the piercing voice of the starter ordering some one to hold back.

"Look!" he exclaimed; "don't miss the getaway!"

Her hands dropped and her face came up bravely. She was pale now.

Leaning forward, John saw the line of horses coming nicely and well, and Peter trying with all his puny strength to hold The Prince in his place.

His efforts were only partly successful, for the colt had come into his own at last, but as the group dashed under the wire that thrilling word "Go!" was hurled at them. There was a rustle and stir from end to end of the grandstand, as the immense crowd arose to its feet, the man and the girl with the rest. Their eyes were set on those flying forms skimming over the earth like birds. To the first quarter there was scarcely any change, for there was no mongrel blood racing in Kentucky on that great day. Neck and neck the brave brutes ran; panting side to panting side.

So they whirled into the home stretch for the first time. Almost in front of his mistress the n.o.ble colt sprang out at the half, and took the pole! It was beyond belief! It was marvelous--unequalled in the annals of the turf! For it was not done in a quarter of a mile; it was done at once, in half a dozen leaps. Julia's heart sang with joy, and a choking feeling of elation hurt her throat. A smile of wonderment crept to her lips and stayed there, while The Prince led the next half mile and came under the wire two lengths ahead of Daystar, his closest antagonist.

The wooden structure upon which they stood shook, so fierce and long was the applause, and hands were thrust at Major Dudley and Julia so fast that they could not take them all, while a confused chorus of congratulations was poured upon them. But this was only the beginning.

There might be many more heats. John went on the track to have a closer look at The Prince. The colt was breathing deeply and regularly; not a hair was turned from sweat and he showed no signs of distress. Some of the others were full of lather and were blowing heavily. The pace had been fast. Presently all withdrew to rest, and be rubbed down. Uncle Peter was exalted to the seventh heaven of delight as he rode away, prouder than Solomon in his palmiest days.

The next heat, however, was a shock, a surprise and a revelation.

Imperial Don, Devil Marston's other entry, pushed his nose under the wire about six inches ahead of the colt's. People were dumfounded, for the horse had run fourth in the first heat, and not one had supposed him to be a possible winner.

Julia retained her self-possession, and spoke with a firm voice.

"Please go and ask Uncle Peter the reason."

John obediently made his way to The Prince's side.

"How did it happen?" he asked.

Peter kicked his feet free of the stirrups, and slid to the ground. He was trembling all over, and his face had a.s.sumed a grayish hue.

"I'll tell yo' suh, 'n' you tell Ma.r.s.e Dudley 'n' de young Missus jes'

whut I tell yo', foh dat am de fac'! Dis ol' nigguh ain' lib dese long yeahs foh nuffin. Now I gwi' tell yo' how 'twuz, 'n' yo' wanter pay 'tention. Dat fus' time dis Don-hoss wahn't nowhahs, 'n' t'other'n o'

Deb'l Marston's come a measly secon'. Dis time de Don-hoss he win by a gnat's heel. Yo' know why? Jis' 'kase dey hil' 'im up de fus' time, a-savin' 'im foh de secon'. Now I wants yo' to look at dis heah hoss!"

He placed a trembling hand upon The Prince's arching neck. "Am he blowed? Am he tahed? Am he standin' on t'ree feet? Am he haid down 'tween he laigs? Now look at de res', 'n' please yo'. Yondah's dat Don-hoss, whut t'inks he's done so much, scearcely able to git he breff; ready to drap! Yondah's dat Daystah, whut didn't do nuffin 'tall, 'n'

he's dat wet wid sweat 'n' weak dat he c'n hahdly stan' on fo' feet, let 'lone t'ree. Now, suh, yo' pay 'tention to me. Dem hosses hab done dey do. Dey's tahed to deff, bofe ob 'em. Dey's took tuhn 'bout runnin' dis heah thuhuhbred, 'n' one of 'em manage to creep 'head o' 'im, but dey's done. Dey'll try de same t'ing, time 'bout, dis nex' race, but 'twon't do. Dis hoss am jus' de same as if he'd nebber run a step. We's gwi'

win, 'n' yo' c'n jis' res' on de wud o' dis ol' nigguh!"

Uncle Peter's explanation of the condition of affairs was, in truth, feasible, and it was equally true that Marston's horses were feeling keenly the terrible strain they had just undergone. Of their pluck, mettle and speed there could be no doubt, but they did not have the bottom of the bay colt, whose sires were famed for their endurance. John took the old man by the hand.

"Peter Dudley, don't let a Marston win over you today! I hope and believe you are right in all you've told me. I shall tell it over to Miss Dudley for her encouragement. You know what's in this piece of horse-flesh--_then get it out_. And listen, Uncle Peter! I've known horses intimately all my life. Let me suggest something to you. Trail the leading horse for the first half mile, then go to the front and stay there!"

A moment later Glenning was back with Julia, telling her and the Major of Peter's explanation of the last heat. Julia was hopeful, but her father was in doubt. Glenning had his fears, too, but he kept them to himself.

When the third heat was called it was found that two of the horses had been withdrawn, their owners seeing that victory was hopeless. This left The Prince, and Devil Marston's Daystar and Imperial Don. Excitement was intense as the horses appeared for the final bout. An experienced eye could have seen that two of them were a little f.a.gged, but the third was apparently as fresh and strong as he was the moment he left his stall for the first heat.

As the horses scored for a start Imperial Don had the pole, The Prince was second, with Daystar on the outside. They came down fast, for their blood was up, and there was to be no dallying. They got off easily, and everyone in that vast a.s.semblage drew a long breath, then became silent.

Imperial Don held his place gallantly, but The Prince's hot breath spouted upon his flank at every leap. The other horse was half a length behind. Thus they went, scarcely s.h.i.+fting their relative positions the first time around. Down the stretch and past the grandstand like winged things they flew, and then Imperial Don began to weaken. Again and again his rider applied the whip, but it was no use. The pace was simply killing, and the horse had done his best. At the quarter post The Prince took the pole, and Daystar, who had been held in reserve, came after him. He came like the wind, too--a long, white, phantom shape which seemed possessed of the devil. Before another quarter was run he was neck and neck with the bay colt, but there he stuck. It was a race good to behold. Thumping the springy earth in measured rhythm the fleet hoofs sped towards the goal. Into the home stretch they dashed. Three thousand pairs of eyes were watching them, and they seemed to know it. Like a span in harness they plunged forward; like two engines of the rail. The Prince's slim breast was flecked with white. His neck was outstretched; his pointed ears lay flat on his head. His long mane beat in the contorted face of the monkey-like figure on his back. Every strong muscle in all his lithe body was strained to the last limit. The racing blood of countless winners was aflame, and with almost human intelligence he strove bravely for the mastery. Inch by inch he began to lead away! On towards the wire, his red-rimmed eyes bulging, his veined nostrils inflamed and quivering. The watching people saw, and instantly such a shout arose that it pierced the blue above. Another moment, and the n.o.ble animal shot past the goal a neck ahead, and the race was won!

CHAPTER XVIII